


it should be easy

by timber (calculus)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slice of Life, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/pseuds/timber
Summary: His freshman year was spent settling into college, the rosy romantic college life he’d imagined for himself giving way to the actual reality of late-night eating with his constant companions, stress and procrastination, and alternating between all-nighters and sleeping at odd hours of the day.But amidst all of it, Chanyeol still found his silver lining in Kris.





	it should be easy

Chanyeol leans against the bar table across from the espresso machines and cashier counter, idly waiting for his name to be called out for his drink, and eyes the small chattering group of girls who gather next to him. The tall one, a pretty-looking girl with sparkling eyes, catches notice of him and smiles readily, tilting her head at him, drawing in the attention of the other two girls. They turn their heads over, cursory glances at who she’s staring at, and then turn fully when Chanyeol smiles back, a slow curl of his lips and a conscious effort to hold back the teeth this time. The girls look dazzled.

“Hi,” he says after a moment of silence, all of three of them still staring. He stretches off the table and presses a hand against the edge, leaning slightly into the girls’ space.

They look taken aback, save for the tall one who steps in easily, smile wider than before and a touch flirtatious now. “Hi. You come here often?” she says, simultaneously coy and sardonic, eyebrows quirking up at her pickup line. Chanyeol breaks character, barking a laugh before relaxing into his limbs, and the girl responds with a satisfied smile.

“Oh yeah. It’s the nexus of all stressed-out college students, after all. If it weren’t for those pesky closing times, I would just sleep here,” Chanyeol jokes. The two other girls giggle, but the tall one just quirks her lips, unwilling to be drawn in that easily.

“You could always just buy a coffeemaker of your own, you know,” she says, unimpressed, but the sparkle in her eyes softens the dismissal. “Don’t lie, you’re just here to pick up cute girls like us.” She bites her lip after that, face struggling from breaking into laughter, and Chanyeol laughs for her, throws his head back and cackles.

“Oh, I _like_ you,” he says after he collects himself, wiping away a stray tear. “What’s your name, man, let’s be friends.” Chanyeol waggles an eyebrow at her, not missing the way her friends stare at her in awe, and she almost preens under their attention.

“Kathy,” she says, sticking out her hand. Chanyeol grabs it for a firm handshake, detachedly filing the softness of her hand away in his mind, and smiles for real this time, gleefully displaying his teeth.

“Chanyeol. Nice to meet you, Kathy,” he says warmly. She returns his smile with an equally toothy one, immensely pleased with herself, and Chanyeol can’t help but laugh again.

“I have a venti caramel brulee latte with extra whip for a… uh… Chan--Chanyowl?”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes at the mangling of his name but politely excuses himself from the girls to grab his drink. He goes up to the drinks counter and flashes the guy behind the counter a quick smile and affirmation, and grabs for the white cup. Out of morbid curiosity, he checks the name written on the cup and has to chuckle at today’s misspelling.

“It’s like they don’t even try anymore,” he murmurs to himself, shaking his head sadly, and grabs a sleeve from the service station and a coffee stopper. He sneaks a sip, relishing the taste of pure sugar and lighter fluid on his tongue before plugging the lid and slipping the sleeve on.

The girls apparently moved on, having taken seats on the large armchairs behind the bar counter, and Chanyeol thinks about joining them before a loud clatter by the entrance draws away his attention. It’s Kris dragging himself into the store, slouched and scuffling his gross tattered canvas shoes across the tiles, and also the first time Chanyeol’s seen his roommate since yesterday morning when they’d shared breakfast before leaving the apartment.

He bounds up to Kris, drink in hand and eyes curled into a cheerful smile, and it takes Kris a moment to register his presence before grimacing and physically pushing Chanyeol’s face away from his breathing space. He shuffles to the cashier counter, Chanyeol at his shoulder, and mumbles out an order for a tall cinnamon dolce frappe. Chanyeol pushes him away before he can take out his card to pay, and gamely offers up his own. Kris lets it happen, just huffs and purses his lips, but easily lets Chanyeol into his space when he’s done paying and slumps against him.

“How was your all-nighter, man? Get anything done?” Chanyeol asks cheekily, lightly elbowing Kris in the ribs. Kris makes a noise and pushes away the arm before slumping his head against Chanyeol’s shoulder, letting him take most of the weight as they shuffle to the bar counter together with difficulty. “Man, you need to lay off on those donuts; I feel like I’m dragging a bloated corpse right now.”

Kris snorts, the burst of air tickling against the side of Chanyeol’s neck, but lifts himself off. “I think I mainlined like ten espresso shots in the last four hours, just trying to stay awake for my last two classes. My heart feels like it’s about to explode out of my ribcage right now,” he croaks, laying one of his unnaturally large hands against the center of his chest. “You should probably ready your phone; I might just die today.”

Chanyeol laughs incredulously, looping an arm around Kris's slouched posture, and sets his cup down so he can lightly smack him on the head. “What are you doing getting more caffeine then, you nut?” 

Kris shrugs, the movement like molasses against Chanyeol’s grip. “Habit, mostly,” he replies matter-of-factly.  
Chanyeol lets out a huff of laughter, exasperated, and pinches him on the arm. Kris flinches accordingly, and Chanyeol smirks in satisfaction.

“You’re such an idiot, I really don’t know how you spent the last four years taking care of yourself like this.” Chanyeol shakes his head to match his tone. “Did you at least get your shit done?”

Kris responds with a lazy thumbs-up, and makes to get his drink when his name is called out. Chanyeol rolls his eyes and pushes him down onto one of the high stools, and retrieves the drink and a straw. Kris looks up at him gratefully, and Chanyeol can’t resist ruffling his dyed blonde hair, grinning at the pained protest.

“So, dinner?”

“Anything but tacos,” Kris says immediately, standing up with his drink in hand and popping the straw through the lid. Chanyeol scowls and pushes him a little as they weave their way out of the slowly-crowding Starbucks.

“What’s wrong with tacos! They’re healthy and nutritious and full of protein and fiber if you get it with slaw and shit,” Chanyeol protests, taking a sip of his forgotten latte and dragging his lips down into a moue at the melted cream and slightly dissipated heat of the coffee. He sticks the stopper back in the lid. “And they’re cheap! And as broke college students, I feel that it is far more financially savvy of us if we choose the cheaper option.”

Kris' lips twitch, absentmindedly swirling his drink in one hand while keeping the other in his jacket pocket. “We always eat tacos. I had tacos last night at 2AM for a late night snack. I need to eat something else before I barf up half-chewed tortilla bits on your face.”

Chanyeol’d been eyeing the open loop bracketed by Kris' arm, but he looks up in visible disgust when Kris suggests vomiting. “That’s disgusting, bro, don’t even. Tacos are sacred, okay, you can’t go throwing that shit up. You gotta savor every bite.”

“Oh my god, fine, whatever,” Kris relents, rolling his eyes and taking a quick swill from his drink. He holds out his index finger, the rest of his hand curled around the cold drink, and points at Chanyeol with expectancy. “You’re paying for my meal, then.”

Chanyeol makes a face, but accepts. Kris smiles thinly, dropping his hand back down, and Chanyeol holds out a little longer before compromising with himself and grabs onto Kris's sleeve, almost shyly, before picking up his pace and dragging Kris with him towards the direction of his favorite taqueria.

 

(“You need to stop forgetting your keys, man. One day, I’m not gonna be free and you’re gonna have to sleep outside the apartment, probably by the trashbags for warmth in the middle of winter,” Chanyeol scolds during his fifth taco. He jabs his half-eaten taco at him, unaware of the pork shreds spilling out, and chews loudly before continuing. “What if you get kicked out by our landlord because you looked so much like a hobo with your stupid hat and baggy clothes? Where would you go?”

Kris leans out of the spit zone, and draws his own plate of tacos away before answering calmly. “First of all, it’s high fashion. This is a Gaultier original, and it costs more than what you’d make in five months at your crappy cashier job at McDonald’s. Second of all, I’d sleep in my studio or over at Yixing’s place, maybe. I’m not desperate, I’ve got options.”

Chanyeol mimes him talking with his free hand, scrunching up his lips to match the motions. Then, the thought occurs to him. “Wait, did you pull the all-nighter yesterday _because_ you forgot your keys?”

Kris's embarrassed silence is answer enough.)

* * *

Today’s lecture focuses on argument structure, integrating another level to their building grammar model, and Chanyeol should really be paying attention since he’s missed the class earlier this week that introduced the topic and he’s at least seventy percent lost on what he should know at this point. But the clouds outside look so white and friendly against the rare sky blue, and the rustling red leaves of the trees branches by the window are so warm and colorful-looking. Chanyeol holds back the sigh that wants to slip out, knowing it’d be as loud as a gunshot in the almost silent room--save for their professor’s drone.

His notebook is half scribbled with notes about binding theory, with sloppily written principles and quick anecdotes about the possible problems that might arise with his own language in Korean when he takes a look later on for his homework. The other half is dotted with messy doodles: a pinched face with wide cheeks here, a roly-poly figure with a giant toothy frown on the corner, a half drawn smiley face with shark teeth and cones sticking out of the upper right of its head in between lines about reflexive pronouns and indices. He’s in the middle of another doodle right now, occasionally flicking an eye to the projection screen at the front of the room with a slide of an example lexical entry being shown, and draws down the lines of a grinning cat with sure lines, loping it across the bottom of his page.

His stomach gurgles, embarrassingly loud and obnoxious against the backdrop of classmates breathing and the pause for breath from his professor, and Chanyeol’s ears heat up, no doubt bright red to match the dyed red curls of his hair. He pinches his face and hunches in a little, adjusting his position so that he can punch his stomach for being a giant dick against his will without anyone noticing.

His phone buzzes, vibrating inside his jacket pocket, and he sneaks a look at their oblivious professor before pulling it out to check the message. The screen lights up with giant white numbers for the current time, and he lets out a huff of relief, taking comfort in the knowledge that there’s only five minutes left before class ends and he can eat. He swipes the screen across to open up his messages, and pulls up a text from Jongdae, who sits catty-corner to him in the class.

_lunch after? i want burritos_ is all he says, and Chanyeol looks up to catch Jongdae watching him, kittenish grin on his lips. Chanyeol rolls his eyes but nods decisively, smiling back.

Professor Kim clears his throat and sets down his clicker now, propping his hands on his hips. “Okay, well, it looks like class is just about over, and we’ve made some good headway in this chapter. We’ll pick things back up on Monday,” he says in a clear dismissal, and as if on cue, everyone gets up and starts packing. “Remember to check the boards for your homework assignment. Workshop will be on Friday at ten this week because I got a faculty lunch thing at eleven, and I’d rather stare at the sagging faces of my colleagues while eating free food than teach you miscreants, in all honesty.” He grins conspiratorially, taking away the sting of his words, but Chanyeol is almost positive that Professor Kim is being completely serious.

They shuffle out of the classroom in waves, Chanyeol hanging back until Jongdae’s finished shoving his laptop and charger in his canvas bag, and they go together out the door.

“Man, I don’t think I was awake enough for this lecture,” Jongdae complains, stretching out his arms and yawning openly. Chanyeol nods in sympathy, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and yawns in response. “I kept nodding off like every ten minutes; this class was _torture_.”

“You stayed up late marathoning trashy telenovelas again, huh,” Chanyeol says with a smirk, guessing, and Jongdae makes a face at him. They tread down the stairs, moving out of the way to let a girl pass through, before he replies.

“ _No_ , and they aren’t trashy.” He waits a beat before allowing, “It was Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It’s fucking amazing, dude, you gotta watch it.”

Chanyeol’s already shaking his head before Jongdae even finishes the sentence, holding up his hands for added emphasis. “No way, man. I’m not starting another series this early in the semester. I actually wanna pass this time with a grade that’s not a B.”

“Shut up, you got almost straight As last semester. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jongdae grouses, flipping him off. They reach the end of the stairs leading into the lobby of the academic building, and Jongdae pushes open the doors to the campus quadrangle. “And it’s only in the middle of its second season right now. You’ll be fine.”

“Remember the last time I started watching something,” Chanyeol says, leveling Jongdae with a sardonic gaze. “Remember my Teen Wolf phase?”

Jongdae blanches almost immediately. “Okay, okay, you’re right now. I’ll stop.” Chanyeol smiles in satisfaction, and Jongdae leans back in, unable to help himself. “But Brooklyn Nine-Nine is infinitely better than trashy television about teenage werewolves, just saying. At least you’d be obsessing something tasteful this time.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and shoves Jongdae into the grass before walking away. Jongdae just snickers and catches back up to him, walking in step.

“But, oh my god, have I told you about my Chinese class this semester?” says Jongdae suddenly, grabbing onto Chanyeol’s sleeve. “You know, I thought it’d be a breeze because I took it back in like, high school, right, and I got a four on the AP and everything, but holy shit. I feel like they placed me in a four-hundred-level multivariable calc class.”

“You got arrogant,” Chanyeol surmises, and Jongdae makes a face. “Hey, I’m just repeating what you just admitted.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Chanyeol opens his mouth to say more, but his phone buzzes again, a single vibration, and he takes it out immediately, ignoring Jongdae’s throwaway jibe about him being a social butterfly. It’s a snapchat from Kris, the silly **the galactic fanfan** with flower and spaceship emojis bookending it marking the notification on his screen; Chanyeol swipes it open without thought. Once the image loads, he stares for a moment before snorting and rolling his eyes.

“Lemme see, lemme see,” Jongdae says, dragging his hand over so he can take a look. It’s a shaky picture of Kris, head down in a pile of film scraps and medium-sized reels surrounding him like a mock halo on his desk, with the caption _im so hungry pls feed me_ running across the image. Jongdae snorts as well, bringing up a hand to his mouth. “He looks so pathetic, poor guy.”

Chanyeol nods in agreement, lips quirked in fondness, and takes back his hand and phone. Jongdae eyes him knowingly. “Rain check on lunch?”

“Yeah, whatever. You can spot me next time,” Jongdae says, waving him off. Chanyeol’s already changing directions, heading for the dining hall, and Jongdae shouts after him. “Tell his Royal Highness he owes me a burrito!”

Chanyeol sticks a hand out in acknowledgement.

* * *

Kris is a ridiculously heavy sleeper. Chanyeol once set four different alarms on his phone as a joke, each with loud horn noises and blaring sirens, and Kris still managed to sleep obliviously through them. (Chanyeol, on the other hand, shot out of bed at 5AM, half-scared to death from the shrill shrieks of a fire engine’s siren coming from Kris's phone in the room next door. Karma, as it were.)

So when Chanyeol loudly clatters his way into the area where Kris's and Amber’s studio space is, bumping into a paint-splatter cupboard and tripping over several extension cords and easels, he’s not surprised to find Kris still peacefully snoring away on the couch across from his studio space.

He’s curled under a heavy-looking blanket, a patterned and tassled thing done in deep umber thread--probably one of Lu Han’s, from the looks of how heavy it is--and sleeping on his side, face turned toward to the edge of the couch. He looks peaceful. Chanyeol stares at him a moment longer before settling the bag of sandwiches he got for them and his backpack on the coffee table. He unwinds the grey muffler tucked under his chin and unzips his parka, roughly tossing everything onto the opposite couch across from the coffee table and Kris. It’s not cold enough for gloves, but Chanyeol’s fingers still feel irritatingly numb from the outside chill, and he shoves them into the pocket of his hoodie as he ambles to Kris's sleeping form.

Kris doesn’t move a muscle, save for the involuntary rise and fall of his chest, and Chanyeol takes a selfish minute to study him. He hunches down in front of Kris's sleeping face, sitting on his haunches, and drops his head on his hand. There are small bags under Kris's eyes, a touch bruised on the delicate under-skin, though the plastic black frames he’s sleeping with on hides most of it from sight. Chanyeol thoughtlessly drags out his index finger to poke through the lense-area, but he stops just before he grazes soft skin. Kris lets out a gentle snore, and Chanyeol huffs in amusement, easily taking back his hand.

He leans in, close enough that his breath grazes against the soft hairs of Kris's face and ruffles the edges of his bangs, and pauses. From this distance, Chanyeol can tell Kris's cheek is pockmarked with the beginnings of a breakout, a sign of stress, and he quirks his lips in a faint smile. Kris shifts in his sleep, and Chanyeol holds still until Kris settles back down again. Then, he dips his head to the curve of Kris's ear, lips just barely whispering against the cartilage as it stretches into a large toothy smile, and shouts directly into his eardrum.

“ _Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!_ ”

Chanyeol snaps his body back just in time to avoid the flailing limbs that pass through the space where his head would’ve been, not bothering to keep his laughter down as Kris thrashes to consciousness. He’s still laughing when Kris settles down, finally aware of his surroundings and eyes zeroed in on Chanyeol, and takes the punch in the shoulder without complaint, too lost in his cackling to care.

“What the _fuck_ , man! You’re such a fucking douchenozzle,” spits Kris, chest visibly heaving as he sucks in air. He punches Chanyeol again, knocking his fist against his shaking shoulders, and drops his head into his hands. “God, I could just strangle you right now.”

Chanyeol’s flat on his ass at this point, and he takes another few moments to let the hysterics pass through before he lets out a satisfied exhalation, lazily grinning up at Kris's scowling face. Kris growls at him and leans down to push his face away with a large palm, but Chanyeol ducks away from it, brushing it off with a casual hand.

“Okay, okay, my bad,” he says unrepentantly, but the semi-sincere grin he gives Kris is enough to lower his hackles. “I brought you sandwiches for lunch; truce?”

“Only if you let me kick you in the ball sac,” Kris mutters darkly, but waves him away imperiously, swinging his legs back down to the floor and getting up from the couch. Chanyeol pouts cutely and holds out his hand with wide unblinking eyes, and Kris rolls his eyes, but lifts him off the ground anyway. Chanyeol rewards him with a wide smile, teeth unnervingly displayed, but Kris just rolls his eyes and walks away.

“Bring back napkins and water,” Chanyeol calls out, ignoring the bird Kris flips at him while walking away, and bends over to take out the sandwiches from the takeaway bag. He got them subs from the sandwich corner of the dining hall, a roast beef for him and a bacon chicken ranch for Kris, and an extra turkey club for when Kris complains about his sandwich choice and asks for another.

Kris comes back with two paper cups filled with water and a wad of napkins between his teeth. Chanyeol’s already settled on the ground, crosslegged and mindlessly chewing into his sandwich, and Kris mutters loudly about how rude Chanyeol is to start without him before planting himself squarely on the ground right next to him. Chanyeol grins cheekily through a mouthful of masticated beef and gluten, and Kris curls his lips into a sneer, shoving a napkin at his face before unwrapping his own sandwich. Chanyeol watches from the corner of his eye as Kris takes his first bite, lips pushed up to one side, and rolls his eyes when Kris grimaces in mid-chew.

“Chanyeol, what did you get me?” Kris asks, puckering his lips and gesturing with his sandwich half. “It tastes gross.”

“You’re like the biggest baby on this planet, jesus,” Chanyeol sneers, taking another bite of his sandwich. Kris glares at him. “Just _eat_ it, god, be grateful I even bought you food.” Kris makes a bigger face, but starts chewing again, staring mulishly at his sandwich.

Chanyeol lets it go on for another few minutes before he gets tired of Kris's huffing and shoves the other wrapped sub at Kris. “Here, you asshole. A regular turkey club, fit for a loser like you. Eat it and stop whining.”

Kris scowls at him but eagerly grabs for the proffered sandwich, pushing away his half-eaten mess, and Chanyeol snorts. He takes a swig of water from one of the cups, and Kris waits until he’s done before speaking. “Thanks for buying me lunch,” he mumbles thickly through a glob of food.

Chanyeol snorts again, but knocks friendly shoulders with Kris. “At least you have manners, still. Not a complete loser, then.”

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Kris protests weakly. Chanyeol stares at him with a deadpan expression, and Kris surrenders, laughing lightly and holding up a hand as his white flag. “Okay, okay. I’m a brat, sorry.”

“If only people knew that behind that face of yours was a gigantic picky baby who can’t even eat food without complaining,” Chanyeol muses, propping his head against a curled hand, smirking when Kris responds with a pulled face.

Kris waits until Chanyeol is in mid-sip before replying innocently, “Well, I make up for it with my huge dick. Most people tend not to care after that.”

The pleased grin on Kris's face stays even after Chanyeol spits back out the gulp of water in his face.

* * *

Chanyeol thought Kris was the coolest person to ever walk this earth the first time they met. He thinks back on it now with a great deal of embarrassment for his past self, but to be honest, it’s hard not to be dazzled by Kris Wu at first glance.

He’d been the tour guide for Chanyeol’s group of visiting pre-frosh, a veritable Sun god almost, with his dyed blonde hair and charismatic presence. It’s not really a wonder that Chanyeol found himself drawn to the boy, especially when everyone of the pre-frosh group plus their parents clambered to be beside Kris during the entire tour. He charmed the parents with his respectfully strong manner and smart answers, and the pre-frosh with his easy smiles and laidback personality, and Chanyeol had left the campus with stars in his eyes.

His freshman year was spent settling into college, the rosy romantic college life he’d imagined for himself giving way to the actual reality of late-night eating with his constant companions, stress and procrastination, and alternating between all-nighters and sleeping at odd hours of the day.

But amidst all of it, Chanyeol still found his silver lining in Kris, who he’d managed to come across again in a chance meeting in a shared gen-ed class and latched onto. Kris had been the answer to his wishes for the perfect sibling, even though Chanyeol wouldn’t trade Yura for anything in the world. He loves his sister, but Chanyeol’s wished for an older brother his entire life, and, well.

Kris was perfect.

He let Chanyeol trail along after him, took him out to eat on days when Chanyeol couldn’t stomach another mouthful of rehydrated styrofoam noodle cups, readily included him in plans with his other friends even though Kris could’ve very well just ignored him otherwise, and gave advice when Chanyeol struggled to make it through the semester. Granted, Chanyeol could tell it bothered Kris at times when he’d look at him with starry eyes, eagerly clung to him and hung onto his every word like it was something precious, but how could he _not_. Effortlessly cool and stylish, excelling in every class he took without breaking a sweat, and maintaining a popular presence with the student body--Kris was everything Chanyeol wanted to be.

He was so easy to worship.

* * *

The noise in the bar is loud and earsplitting, but Chanyeol feels it like a second skin. He sits squished in a corner booth, bracketed by a chattery Jongdae and a demure Jongin, who hunches into himself every time someone so much as breathes in his direction, and the air inside is thick and smoky from the plague of ashtrays and smokers everywhere, but he can’t imagine being anywhere else.

“Where’s Baekhyun with our drinks, man, I’m so ready to get wasted here,” Jongdae asks, flopping back into the booth cushions with a pout. Jongin twitches on the other side, a full-bodied flinch, and Chanyeol absentmindedly rubs his thigh reassuringly before pointing over to the bar counter where Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are.

“Busy harassing Kyungsoo instead, obviously,” he says drily, watching Kyungsoo step away from Baekhyun’s hovering to aim a hard kick at his backside. He winces in sympathy as Baekhyun yelps and backs off accordingly, and shares a knowing look with Jongdae, who just shakes his head. “The usual pigtail-pulling.”

“One day, Kyungsoo will actually snap and push him off a building,” Jongdae says airily, “And I hope to have front-row seats to that day.”

“You know Kyungsoo would never leave witnesses,” Chanyeol points out with a grin, nudging Jongin gently to share in the joke. Jongin manages a weak chuckle, reluctantly smiling at him, and Chanyeol ruffles his hair in response, pleased that Jongin’s willing to humor him.

Baekhyun comes back to the table first, balancing a full tray of shot glasses, a bowl of quartered limes and a full bottle of reposado tequila, along with the widest grin Chanyeol’s seen on him all day. Kyungsoo trails grudgingly behind him, mouth in the perpetual flat line that crops up in Baekhyun’s presence.

“Alright ladies, drinks are up! No more chitchatting, it’s time to get shitfaced,” Baekhyun says cheerfully, clapping his hands as soon as he sets down the tray and Kyungsoo distributes the glasses. Chanyeol and Jongdae cheer, but Jongin just shrinks further into himself, expression stricken and nervous. Baekhyun doesn’t help, leering at him and leaning over the table into his space. “First shot’s on me, baby.”

Chanyeol laughs and pushes him away, curling a protective arm around Jongin. “Leave the kid alone, man, this is why we don’t let you near children. You need to let people get used to you first before you pull that creepy flirting crap.”

Jongin blushes and scowls, pushing him away. “Shut up, I can fight my own battles.” He grabs for the first shot glass in sight and holds it out to Baekhyun with a determined face. “Hit me.”

Jongdae laughs and claps. “Looks like the kid’s got some teeth after all.” Jongin’s expression almost crumbles, but he pulls it together at last minute, resolutely staring at Baekhyun with his hand outstretched. Baekhyun pops off the top of the bottle and pours cleanly into the shot glass, holding Jongin’s gaze the entire time, and holds up a lime when he’s done.

“Suck first?” he asks with a slow smile, and Chanyeol has to hide his face in Jongdae’s equally shaking shoulders to muffle the laughter spilling out. Kyungsoo, who sits primly across from them on the side of the booth, just drops his face into his palm with a sigh.

Jongin stares open-mouthed at Baekhyun, but obediently takes the lime wedge from his fingers. He breaks the stare between them to weigh the options in hand, and Chanyeol can tell he’s torn between following exactly what Baekhyun says and doing what he wants to do instead. After a moment, he inhales and looks straight into Baekhyun’s eyes as he sucks the juice from the wedge and knocks back the shot immediately after, oblivious to the crowing and shouts from Jongdae and Chanyeol.

He holds it together for a moment more before he breaks, expression crumpling as the burn kicks in, and Baekhyun shakes his head a little, a little dazed, before laughing and clapping him gamely on the back. The tension seems to dissipate after that, and they clamber for their own shots, eager to move on with the night.

Chanyeol’s in the middle of pouring a shot for Kyungsoo when his phone vibrates, but he waits until Kyungsoo’s knocked back the shot and pours him a second one right after before he checks his phone. Baekhyun and Jongdae boo him as he quickly excuses himself, Jongin giggling helplessly against Baekhyun, but Chanyeol flips them off with a grin and weaves himself out of the crowded bar.

Once the night air hits, sharp and cool against his flushed skin, he pulls out his phone and checks his notifications, bottom lip between his teeth as he scrolls through the badges. There’s a couple of game notifications, a reminder for him to take out the trash when he gets back, and the newest notification, a text from Kris asking him about a wayward tea kettle. Chanyeol huffs and swipes the screen to call him instead of reading the rest of the message.

It takes only a few seconds before Kris picks up, immediately starting the conversation without so much as a hello.

“Where’s the stupid tea pot, Chanyeol, I’m going crazy here--” Chanyeol pulls the phone away to stare at the screen with an exasperated expression before putting it back to his ear to catch the rest of Kris's rant. “--And I really can’t pull this all nighter if I can’t find the goddamn tea pot and make myself a fucking pot of tea, so for the love of god--”

“Have you checked the cupboard under the knife drawer?” Chanyeol interrupts with an eyeroll.

There’s a pause and the fuzzy sounds of clanging pots in the background before Kris comes back on the phone. There’s a decidedly sheepish tone when he speaks next. “...Found it.” Chanyeol can already see the flustered expression on Kris's face and the slouched posture he takes whenever he feels too ashamed to live in his mind, and he doesn’t hold back the amused snort that immediately wells up.

“Idiot,” he says, ducking his head down with an unconscious grin. Kris makes a noise, the rustling noises of his shoulders shrugging, and there’s a moment of shared silence before Chanyeol hurries on and says something again. “So, uh, all-nighter again?”

He can hear the scratching of Kris's fingers against his scalp, Kris's tic when feeling out of place. “Yeah, uh, gotta go through the audio files I collected and filter through them. It’s gonna take at least the better part of the night if not the whole night to get through everything, so.”

“Why don’t you just make coffee, then, if you’re so desperate for caffeine?”

“I don’t think I can stomach another night of coffee without puking it back out. I think my body’s staging a coup against me.” The pout is so prominent in Kris's voice, Chanyeol can’t help but laugh.

“Well, okay. Make sure not to throw up on the living room carpet, if you do get sick. I don’t wanna have to scrub the carpet clean again like the last time you puked.” Kris makes an assenting grunt, and Chanyeol momentarily wishes he was there to pull at Kris's cheeks. “I’m probably gonna be back late, so keep your door closed so I don’t disturb you.”

“Yeah, okay, _mom_ ,” says Kris in mock-annoyance, but Chanyeol knows he’s smiling into the phone with the gross gummy smile he keeps telling Kris to hide from cute girls lest he scare them away. “You go back and have fun with your friends, man. Thanks for answering my text.”

“Okay. Good night.”

The phone clicks, and the screen fades to black, but Chanyeol stays outside a little longer, staring off into the dark sky with a quirk on his lips before going back inside.

* * *

He’s shaken awake, a gentle but firm hand over his shoulder blades, and Chanyeol blinks blearily into consciousness. There’s a large figure standing over him, and he stares up at him with squinting eyes before the figure laughs and leans down and slips on his glasses for him. Kris comes into focus, warm smile haloed by the sunlight streaming from the living room windows, and Chanyeol has to swallow a few times to get rid of the dryness in his throat.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Kris says, straightening up and planting his hands on his hips. Chanyeol obligingly raises himself to a sitting position, still squinting through crusted eyes, and scratches his belly while Kris hovers over him. “I made you breakfast, so go brush your teeth and wash your face.”

Breakfast, ugh. His head’s already pounding incessantly, and the thought of breakfast just makes Chanyeol want to run for the nearest hole to upchuck into. Kris catches the grimace Chanyeol makes and rolls his eyes before pulling him up, ignoring the weak protests.

“Come on, up and at ‘em. It’s eggs and hash, your favorite. Go clean yourself up,” he coaxes, and Chanyeol finally notices the smell of browned meat and fried potatoes in the air. His stomach grumbles in approval, and Chanyeol smiles at Kris despite the banging in his head.

He cleans himself up, pulling a disgusted face at the crusted drool smeared on the side of his cheek, and brushes his teeth furiously to get rid of the dead vermin taste on his tongue and the feeling of something fuzzy coating his teeth. He gargles twice for added measure.

When he comes out, feeling cleaner and more awake, he finds the kitchen table already set with a full plate of hash and a brilliantly poached egg on top and a glass of water and aspirin on the side. Holding back sudden tears, he turns to Kris, who’s busy washing the sinkful of dirty dishes, and slams into his back in a giant bear hug.

“Kriiiissss,” he wails, croaky and whiny, into Kris's stiff shoulder blades. “You’re perfect, Kris, marry me, please. You can have Baekhyun’s firstborn as well, he won’t miss them.” Kris relaxes, laughing as Chanyeol rubs his face into his back. “I must’ve saved a country in a past life.”

Kris dries his hands before turning around and patting Chanyeol on the head, gently running his fingers through Chanyeol’s bedhead, and Chanyeol feels like the headache inexplicably softens under his touch, pressing into his fingers. Kris massages his temples a little bit before gently pushing him away and towards the table.

“Okay, okay. Go eat and then take a shower after because you smell like shit. Remember you have class in the afternoon, so don’t oversleep if you go back to bed after. There’s more hash in the microwave if you’re still hungry, and leftover pasta in the fridge. Your phone’s in your room, charging, and your keys are on the hook by the door,” Kris ticks off with his fingers, voice gentle and soft in deference to Chanyeol’s hangover. “Blinds are down in your room if you wanna go back to sleep, and I left another two aspirin on your desk.”

Chanyeol beams weakly up at him, and gives him a thumbs up. “Got it. Thanks, man, seriously.”

Kris nods and gives him another smile before grabbing the backpack sitting by the coffee table in the living room. “I’m gonna head off to class now.” He hesitates, staring at Chanyeol with an unreadable expression, before he shakes it off with a smile. “Don’t miss your class, okay?”

Chanyeol waves him off, already digging into his meal, and Kris gives him a last gentle press on the head before leaving. After a moment, Chanyeol gets up and shuffles to his room and comes back out with his phone. He takes a quick selca of him and his breakfast, hastily fixing his hair beforehand, and posts it on Instagram with a glowing caption--“i’ve got the best roommate in the world~~~~~ ㅋㅋㅋㅋ”--and follows it up with a number of flower emojis and stars.

Then, he starts eating.

* * *

Kris isn’t actually much of a partier. At first glance, he looks like the type who’d be at every other party held over the weekend, holding court with his gaggle of admirers, but after almost three years of friendship, Chanyeol knows better. If Kris is in the mood or if his friends cajole at him to join them, he’ll go and stay out the night, but more often, Kris stays in, spending his nights on the couch watching Hong Kong soap operas on TVB, or reading in his room. Compared to his outward appearance, Kris is actually more of a low-key shut-in than anything.

Chanyeol maintains a regular appearance at the majority of social gatherings, in part because Baekhyun’s a prissy bitch who forces all his friends to attend his frat’s events, but more because he has an image to keep up. He’s been cultivating this reputation since the start of freshman year the moment he step foot onto campus and made it his home. He wasn’t the most popular back in grade school, a chubby kid who’d rather spend his time playing with animals than talk to the kids who would just tease him for his appearance anyway, and that feeling of isolation just stuck with him even after he outgrew the baby fat and shaped up. Even after he forced himself out of his little bubble and made friends with his classmates in high school, the fear of returning back to that loneliness remained constant in the back of his mind.

And so, Chanyeol dresses the part, sporty and casual, talks to people in and outside of class, makes effort to chat up his professors so that everyone automatically greets him with welcoming faces rather than the derisive sneers that he still imagines seeing. He’s terrified of being alone, so he surrounds himself with people instead. He’s kind of jealous of Kris in this because Kris isolates himself _deliberately_ , is so assured in himself and his connections with people that he doesn’t fear the backlash of not having anyone around.

Chanyeol’s stopped putting Kris on a pedestal a long time ago, well aware of how not-composed and anxious Kris really is about things as opposed to his outwardly collected appearance, but secretly, he still admires him. Being self-assured and confident in oneself is enviable.

* * *

Kris is skyping with his mom in the kitchen when Chanyeol lets himself back into the apartment after his pick-up basketball game with Jongdae and some people from Baekhyun’s frat. He opens his mouth to let out a huge sigh, but thankfully notices the atmosphere before he speaks, and he quietly slips off his shoes and pads to the kitchen for a paper towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

“Is that Chanyeol I see hiding in the back?” asks Mrs. Wu, voice raising from the laptop speakers, and Chanyeol turns back to wave at her from the sink. “Come over and talk to me, Chanyeol, it’s been so long!” Kris sits back, and Chanyeol communicates silently with him, raising his eyebrows to check if Kris is okay with the interruption. Kris just smiles reassuringly and gestures with a tilt of his head for Chanyeol to join.

Chanyeol comes over with a beam, wiggling his fingers at the equally-beaming woman on the screen, and leans over the table to greet her properly. “Hello, Mrs. Wu! It’s been a while since we last talked, huh.”

Kris's mother pouts onscreen, sitting back in her chair. “If only Yifan skyped me more often when you were here, Chanyeol. He never likes letting me talk with his little friends.” She shares a mischievous look with him and directs her gaze to Kris. “Isn’t that right, Yifan?”

Put on the spot, Kris shrugs placidly, poker face in place, but Chanyeol is almost certain his ears are bright red. He grins at Mrs. Wu, and shifts in Kris's space a bit more to make himself comfortable. Almost automatically, Kris spreads his legs apart and tugs Chanyeol to sit down in the space between his thighs, and Chanyeol can only fix a smile on face as he goes down, suddenly blanketed by the heat of the body behind him. He feels a hand curve around his hip, palm hot even through the layer of the clothing, fingers lightly grazing against the mesh of his shorts, and he almost misses what Mrs. Wu says, too focused on the touch.

“Hm? I’m sorry, Mrs. Wu, what was that?”

“You look like you came back from a game, I said,” Mrs. Wu repeats kindly, eyes twinkling. “Did you have fun?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we had a good workout,” Chanyeol says with a smile, all too conscious of Kris's chest pressed against him as he sits up to get a closer look at the screen. He twists his head to wiggle his eyebrows at Kris. “Ol’ Kris here decided to be a couch potato and stay instead of coming with us.”

“Well, obviously I prefer talking to my mother than hanging around with a bunch of sweaty guys,” Kris deadpans, and Chanyeol laughs, leaning back into him on purpose so Kris can get a huge whiff of said sweat. “Eurgh, definitely made the right choice.”

“Yifan, don’t be so rude,” Mrs. Wu scolds with a smile. Chanyeol laughs again and nudges him on the thigh.

“Yeah, _Yifan_ , where are your manners?” he adds, wrinkling his nose when Kris pinches him lightly away from his mother’s line of sight. He turns back to the screen with an exaggerated pout. “Mrs. Wu, your son just pinched me!”

“Tattletale,” Kris mutters in his ear, and Chanyeol shivers, the reflex too quick to hold back. He pulls away then, self-conscious.

“Yifan, really now, be nice,” Mrs. Wu says sternly, though her smile keeps breaking through. Chanyeol nods solemnly at her and slowly gets up, Kris's hand falling away easily.

“Well, it’s been nice chatting with you again, Mrs. Wu. But I’m sure Kris will probably keep pinching me until I shower, so I gotta go save myself from the abuse. Avenge me, Mrs. Wu,” says Chanyeol with a shaking fist, and excuses himself to his room without further ado.

His back feels strangely cold in the quiet air of his room.

* * *

Sophomore year, first semester, Chanyeol got the chance to take a class with Kris because he needed to knock out his gen-ed requirement for science and Kris needed to fulfill his science cluster before the end of junior year. They ended up in the same one-hundred-level biology course, and Chanyeol spent the first three weeks flying in the clouds because he finally got to spend time in class with Kris.

Then, he’d realized how disgustingly abysmal Kris was at biology.

Kris is almost embarrassingly terrible in anything that isn’t humanities-related, as Chanyeol’s come to understand. He’d spent the rest of the semester trying to pass his classes and half-tutoring Kris in basic biology so he could pass the course with a usable grade. Needless to say, once Chanyeol had been exposed to the half-panicked state Kris usually put himself in trying to comprehend protein synthesis and enzymes at two in the morning, the godly shine he’d associated with Kris wore off immediately.

Things kind of snapped into place after that. Their friendship, which had previously been founded on Chanyeol’s inexhaustible hero worship for Kris and Kris's toleration of it, now balanced itself evenly on mutual respect and genuine affection for each other. Chanyeol allowed himself to relax into his natural dickish teasing, and Kris in turn unwound himself enough for Chanyeol to get to know the procrastinating, stubborn mess underneath.

And then, they became roommates.

* * *

Chanyeol’s busy trying to find his other sock amidst the mess on Zitao’s floor as quietly as possible because Zitao’s the lightest sleeper he’s ever had the pleasure of sleeping with, and right now, waking him up is really not an option. He crawls slowly around on the carpet, making sure to keep the brushing of his jeans against the thicker fibers to a decibel even he with his abnormally large ears has trouble hearing in the relative silence. It’d just be a whole lot easier for him to find his goddamn sock if Zitao just did laundry like a regular person instead of dumping all of his shit on the ground when he’s done with an outfit; finding clashing neon green and purple plaid socks is actually a lot harder than Chanyeol’d anticipated. If he and Zitao hadn’t agreed to keep thing strictly between the sheets, Chanyeol would’ve already sat the sophomore down and forced him into a regular housekeeping schedule.

Alas.

He manages to find his garish sock, helpfully spotlighted by the watery moonlight filtered in through the drawn blinds on top of a pile of what looks to be choice pieces from Zitao’s gothic rock ensemble Monday. Chanyeol almost lets out a shout of triumph before he catches himself, clapping a hand over his mouth just as Zitao snorts and rolls onto his side in the bed a foot away. Still, he allows himself a congratulatory fistpump and snatches the sock to roll onto his foot, finally completing the set on his feet and freeing him to leave. He gets up quickly, and tiptoes out of Zitao’s room, keeping an eye on the sleeping figure all the while. Once he’s out of the bedroom and confirms that Zitao’s still lazily floating in dreamland, Chanyeol pulls the bedroom door shut and makes for the suite door where his shoes are haphazardly tossed off by. He pats himself down, a final check that he’s got everything, keys and phone, and slips on his shoes and quietly exits the suite.

He breathes out a sigh of relief as the door clicks shut behind him, and almost inhales a lung on the next breath in when someone tugs at the back of head.

“ _Holy_ \--”

“Shush, spazz attack. Don’t go waking up the entire hall after you tried so hard to get out of Tao’s room unnoticed,” reprimands Kris, who pulls himself away from the leaning slouch against the wall on the side of Zitao’s suite door. Chanyeol bulges his eyes at him, scrunching his eyebrows in almost-hysteria, heart still furiously working through the unexpected jolt, and Kris holds up his hands in mild-mannered placation. “Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in such a twist.”

“You’re the biggest fucking asshole on this side of the equator,” Chanyeol hisses, the hairs on the back of his neck still upright from the shock. Kris nods in concession, and dutifully packs away the smug smirk on his face when Chanyeol glares at him warningly, though it still peeks out around the corners of his lips.

“Yes, yes, I apologize, so sorry, won’t happen again,” Kris says breezily, bringing out a hand to hover just above Chanyeol’s back. He waits patiently, and Chanyeol glares a second longer before minutely nodding, and the hand actually settles now, warmly palming up and down his spine. Chanyeol harrumphs, laying a hand over his heart to feel the rhythm steadily recalibrate itself, but Kris just rolls his eyes in response, still gently smoothing down the small of his back.

Chanyeol waits another few beats, until it doesn’t feel like his heart’s gonna hammer its way out of his ribcage anymore, and then shrugs off Kris's hand and starts walking towards the hallway exit. Kris follows behind, unperturbed.

“So, how was your night?” he asks casually, hands stuffed into the pockets of a pair of truly hideous patterned trousers. Chanyeol flicks his eyes obviously over to his choice of wear, and Kris rolls his eyes again. “Shut up, it’s laundry night, okay. It was either these or the pair of short shorts Amber left over from Halloween, and I didn’t really feel like freezing off my nuts tonight in five-degree weather.”

Chanyeol scoffs, pushing open the staircase door. He waits until Kris passes through to let go, and they clamber down the steps to the lobby together. “That’s like muscle tee and gym shorts weather, please. You’re such a delicate little girl.”

“Frostbite is a real legitimate concern, dick,” Kris retorts as they swivel around the corners of each level and go down another set of steps. “And don’t change the subject; how was your night?”

“Tch,” Chanyeol clicks his tongue, and tries to bite back the grimace before Kris can see, but it’s a lost cause. Kris has an irritating habit of noticing the things Chanyeol wants to hide.

“Not good, huh?” The worst thing about him noticing is that Kris gets so fucking _sympathetic_ , and the last thing Chanyeol ever wants is for anybody to feel sorry for him whatsoever, especially when it comes to the choice in bed partners. That’s the most surefire way to raise his hackles, which Kris is already painfully aware of, but Kris also has the most annoying habit of stepping on those landmines anyway for whatever harebrained reason.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Chanyeol says tightly, feeling his face pinch in already, a far cry from his normal happy-go-lucky persona, but it’s hard to keep his smile on when Kris gets that fucking stupid look in his eyes about the sorest topic on earth to Chanyeol.

Kris shrugs, but mercifully lets the topic go; Chanyeol’ll probably get the lecture tomorrow or a week from now when Kris finds him fucking Zitao on the couch and they have to go through the whole song-and-dance again. For now, he just knocks friendly shoulders with Chanyeol and radiates a comfortable solidity as they finally reach the last set of steps before the parking lot door exit.

Chanyeol feels like eating his earlier words about the weather as soon as they step on level ground again, shielded from the outside with just a flimsy metal door, because the miniscule breeze that’s escaping into the building is fucking _freezing_. He’s only dressed in the flimsy t-shirt and skinny jeans that Sehun swore made him look “deliciously leggy” because of the night’s earlier booty call, and he’s already regretting every sartorial choice he made today, right down to the pair of ratty Converses he’s got over his feet.

They’re noticeably halted right in front of the door, with Chanyeol making no move to push through into the undoubtedly dick-freezing cold, but Kris doesn’t say anything. He just snorts exasperatedly and pulls off the thick navy pullover he has on and shoves it unceremoniously over Chanyeol’s head.

“Dude!” Chanyeol squawks, hands flying up to fix the mess Kris'd just caused on his head, but Kris gives him a steely-eyed gaze. Chanyeol folds like a hastily built house of cards, eagerly accepting the sweater he’d just been forced into wearing, and obligingly tugs his arms through the sleeves. He’s not even bothering to pretend like it’s a burden because he’s already too busy luxuriating in the enveloping warmth left by Kris's lingering body heat.

“Come on,” Kris says with the same tone of exasperation he uses whenever Chanyeol does or says something stupid, but there’s also the matching fondness sliding in between his vowels that always goes along. He rounds his arm over Chanyeol’s shoulders and draws him in close, adding an extra source of heat, and leads them out of the building and onto the road back to their own dorm. Chanyeol can’t help himself; he basks in the affection.

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for [fanforyeol](http://fanforyeol.livejournal.com/)'s first exchange, this fic was ultimately abandoned and never completed. after two on-off years of opening this doc up and going through my old outline notes and what parts i had already written, i've finally decided to put up the completed parts of the fic.
> 
> there is honestly quite a bit of regret for what could've been, in terms of my intended outline for this fic, but alack alas, the exo days are firmly put behind me now. for anyone curious about what was supposed to happen in the fic, i've posted up the [unabridged version](http://ventice.livejournal.com/10482.html) on my lj which includes my entire outline and notes that are still interspersed half-written fic.
> 
> all aside, i do think that the rest of the fic can work as a standalone, so here we are :')


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